The Fantastic Ben Grimm
by JMK758
Summary: Ben learns a surprising lession of acceptance and love.
1. Mail Call at the Baxter Building

Disclaimer: 'The Fantastic Four' is created by Stan Lee and is the property of Marvel Comics Group and its Affiliates and Associates. No infringement of copyright is implied.

This work of fiction follows very shortly after the events depicted in the July, 2005 movie.

The Fantastic Ben Grimm

By: JMK758

Chapter One

Mail Call at the Baxter Building

The many days following their unusual experiences aboard the VonDoom Space Station were filled with change and discovery for the four scientists dubbed by the media 'The Fantastic Four'. 'Elevated' to the status of 'superheroes' by their unusual abilities and the circumstances of life, they did not share one essential feature of their many costumed fellows. 'Outed' almost instantly by the media upon their first public appearance on a crowded bridge, before they had even considered the need to separate public from private lives, their names quickly became household ones throughout the city, then the country and finally the world.

Consequently, they had no 'private' life to call their own, no retreat from the public. Even the headquarters of Reed Richards, Ben Grimm, Susan and Johnny Storm was well known; the Baxter Building in New York City.

Certainly no one was more aware of this than Willie Lumpkin, Letter Carrier for the USPS, whose route included said building. Up to the day the public was told who and where the Fantastic Four were, his mail for that building consisted of a handful of letters; mostly bills, most of them stamped 'Final Notice'.

Now in these days, there were no more 'Final Notice' stamps. Unfortunately, there were no more 'handfuls' either.

"Can you give me a hand?" Willie called after he had succeeded in dragging two overstuffed mailbags, each weighing a good 70 pounds, through the tightness of the revolving door. The object of his appeal, Jimmy O'Hoolihan, the building's doorman, looked at the bundles being slowly dragged through his lobby with a measure of dismay. He was not a day younger than Lumpkin, and was still nursing a sore back from his last encounter with the late, unlamented Victor VonDoom.

"Oh, Lord. Who are they kidding? No one runs up this many bills!"

"No bills here." Lumpkin said, straightening and trying to work the kinks out of his own back. He pulled three letters out of the back pocket of his uniform. "These are the bills. This," he indicated the two huge bags at his feet, "is fan mail."

"Whoooo." He whistled appreciatively, pressing the call button for the elevator. "Guess that's what happens when you come out and save the city two or three times."

"Tomorrow it's going to be a truck, or they can pay for my back brace." But there was no ire in Lumpkin's tone. He'd always liked Reed Richards. Even when the man was down and counted out, he'd never failed to have a kind word or a touch of good humor. Ben Grimm was great; he'd liked the irascible pilot whose bark had always seemed to hide an inner level of gentility few saw unless they looked properly; and the physical change in him hadn't done much to change him inside, not so Lumpkin could see. And the other two new residents, Johnny and Susan Storm, were okay sorts.

"Well, let's get you up there so you can get back to your beat." O'Hoolihan offered, bending to grab one of the ropes securing the canvas bag and dragging it to a waiting elevator.

"Things picking up for you too?"

The Doorman laughed. "I've politely invited more reporters to leave this week than I've seen in any one part of the city since Nine-Eleven." The doors closed on their banter, and the car lifted them to the Penthouse level.

When the doors opened again it was onto a long lobby, in the middle of which two of the aforementioned 'superheroes' were talking. They turned toward the car, the younger one calling out "Whoop-whoop-whoop. Mail's in!"

"You been watching too much 'Nick-at-Night'." The older said gruffly, his deep voice sounding like rocks sliding on a tin sheet.

"Nope, now it's 'TVLand'. Addam's Family's better now than it was then." His 'tormentor' replied with an ever-present grin.

Avoiding comment, the two gray haired men started to pull the two huge bags, but Johnny called out to them: "Don't strain yourselves, let the big guy do it." He slapped his hand on Grimm's massive shoulder as the colossal man turned to lumber down the hall.

"Hope that stung." He muttered just loud enough for Lumpkin and O'Hoolihan to hear. He bent down, taking both sets of ropes from the men and lifting the bags in one hand as another might lift a leaf.

"You two still feuding?" Lumpkin asked, trying to keep a trace of disappointment from his tone.

"Nahh, he's an okay guy I guess." The Thing admitted quietly. "He just needs to grow up – a couple of decades at least." The three shared a chuckle over the follies of youth.

xx

"Read 'em and weep." Ben said, tossing the two sacks onto the common room floor. "We told you to pay your bills, Reed."

"That's looking like less of a problem lately, Ben." Reed Richards retorted as Johnny Storm bounded enthusiastically for the bags he had not carried, but Grimm stopped him with a massive hand of orange 'rock' in his chest.

"Hold it, hot stuff. Beauty before Beast." He said with a glance at Susan, seated on the couch.

"Thank you, Ben." The lovely blonde woman said, standing up and approaching the bags. Ben pulled open one of the bags, reaching in with one huge hand and pulling out a thick bundle of envelopes. He looked at Susan with a grin.

"I didn't say 'Ladies First'."

Susan was taken aback for an instant, but then could not help grinning, seeing her brother's reaction as he interpreted the Thing's actual words. But then Ben handed her the bundle. "Enjoy." He turned away. "I'll be in my room."

Surprised, she called after him; "Don't you want your mail?"

"Nahh. Who'd write to _me_?"

xx

Ben Grimm entered his room, closing the door firmly behind him, symbolically shutting out the world. For a moment he looked about the small room. It was homey, in a homely sort of way. It was not his apartment, but it did have some of his furniture, retrieved from Yancy Street a few days after he'd abandoned it when the 'Dear Ben' letter had come. She didn't want to see him ever again, and it was one more thing he had to try to accept in his new life. It had hurt worse than the change in him that had made him the 'Thing'.

The bed was not his; it was comfortable but was still a steel frame with reinforced steel bracings. The chair, in his size at least, was also designed to support a bulk that massed nearly 2,000 lbs. The telephone on his night table was a 'hands free' one with the biggest buttons available – thank God for novelty design. It was 'hands free' because he had crushed the last two; the first in thoughtlessness, the second in a fit of rage.

This was what his life consisted of now; steel and reinforced furnishings, hand-me-downs from his own former life and a solitude of his own making. But in all his regrets, he could not regret one thing: This life had led him to Alicia Masters.

The young woman had been blind for years and consequently could not see him for the monstrosity he was, someone who could not walk the streets without people recoiling. She had never seen him. She could 'see' him with her hands; enough to get an idea what he looked like; a huge stack of rock that moved like a man. But she did not care. She had never cared. From the first night they'd met, she had taken a liking to Ben Grimm, and did not care a whit for the body that contained him.

Before he could change his mind, before he could sink into a melancholy of mail for others and reinforced furniture for him, he started pressing buttons on the telephone, gently, extremely gently.

The cell phone was answered on the third ring. "Hi, Ben." Grimm's eyes widened. If he'd had eyebrows they would have crept over his head.

"You can't have 'Caller-ID' on that thing." He exclaimed. How would she _read_ it?

"Don't need it; your phone has its own ring tone." He was pleasantly surprised; they'd know each other for so short a time, and were just at the 'getting to know you' stage in their budding friendship. It was a touching thought that she'd think of him enough to do this.

He firmly refused to think of the obvious, that it was a logical extension of what she'd logically do for everyone. 'Logically' was for Richards; it only served to get in Grimm's way. "I was … well …" 'Come on, Ben, bite the bullet.' he thought. '_You_ called _her_!' "I, er, was wondering if you … well, would like to go out … or something?"

'Blast it.' He thought. 'This dating thing is bad enough on its own, without…'

"Take me to a movie?" Alicia's voice asked hopefully from the speaker.

"A _movie_?" How many times could she surprise him?

"I like them better since I don't have to watch the 'acting'."

He laughed. "Sure. Movie it is. I'll –." He was about to say 'see you'. "I'll be there in half an hour."

"I'll be ready." He reached to turn off the phone, but she was still on the line. "Ben?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you want to know your ring tone?" He could almost hear her grin. He shrugged, not having even thought about it.

"I guess."

"'Wild Man in Bed'." The phone clicked off, leaving Ben standing still, his mouth very slowly falling open.

x

Covered now in his long overcoat and hat, he went past the common room, seeing his friends deeply engrossed in their respective stacks of mail. For all the respectable volume of missives piled high in three stacks on the table before them, only the first bag of mail was even partially dug into. No one looked up as he passed as quietly as a one ton body could pass, and he did not call the attention of any of them. Let them have their mail. He had a real life at the movies, he thought with an ironic grin.


	2. Pens

Chapter Two

Pens?

The title of the movie that Ben Grimm took Alicia Masters to he couldn't recall for the life of him a half hour after they left the theater. They'd gone in, taking a seat in the back of the dark movie, and he'd been glad not too many people had been present. The ticket girl at the outer booth, the popcorn woman, the ticket taker guy had each, in their turn, gotten an eyeful of him, returning in their turns stares of blank astonishment at his shocking features. He was very glad no one would see him in the theater itself.

He'd settled in, prepared to very quietly whisper to Alicia what she would need to know from the screen to follow the movie. She'd settled in, folded and pocketed her white cane, and put her arm through his.

When the movie started, she cuddled close to him, and made it very plain she did not care a whit about what was on the screen. She just cuddled close to him, and that was enough for either of them.

xxx

It was early evening by the time Ben Grimm returned to the Baxter Building, giving a casual wave to the doorman before heading back to the freight elevator in the rear of the building. The main lobby cars could not support his new mass when he was aboard with anyone else, and he did not want to tax their capacity at other times. It was an unnecessary risk, putting one of the few public elevators out of commission, and he did not feel demeaned by using the freight elevator. After the afternoon he had had, _nothing_ could make him feel bad.

He found the other three members of his 'team' as he'd left them, though letters had been replaced by dinner.

"Ho, big guy. How was the movie?"

"It was okay."

"What did you see?" Susan asked. He opened his mouth to answer, and suddenly realized he had no idea what the answer was. He had not looked at the screen much more than Alicia had. Finally, he gave up trying to recall the title.

"Alicia." Susan smiled knowingly as he sat down carefully in a chair. The days of plopping down into any furniture were quite definitely over.

"So, what was in the mail?"

"Thirty two Polaroids, eleven eight-by-tens, sixty-two phone numbers with the best times to call and plenty of letters so hot _I_ had to wear asbestos gloves!" Johnny enthused.

"Forget it, Johnny, its too dangerous." Susan protested, what was starting to sound even to her like a wasted refrain.

"You're just jealous."

"Jealousy has nothing to do with it. You _cannot_ go out with these women." All three men looked at her, surprised.

"Come on, sis." Johnny began with a derisive tone that was starting to get some fire into it. The refrain was lately going from irritating which he could wave off with a flippant response through annoying to aggravating. "You said the same thing about me before I got my powers. I didn't listen to you then, and now's no different."

"Well, until you learn how to control those powers, it's too risky." She shot back, her own frustration turning to anger, which grew in response to his heat. "You don't know the extent or limits of your powers. You have no self control, and that's _dangerous_."

He stood up, glaring down at her with growing heat. Reed and Ben wondered if they were going to have to separate the siblings. "Yeah? So tell me; what _danger_ can there be?" She looked up at him, returning coldness to his heat.

"You two are 'together', she hollers 'flame on.' and you do."

x

Johnny Storm stared at his sister, utterly silenced. He wished he could dispel the image her words created, but in spite of the cocksure bravado he showed the world, he had to admit he did not know the extent of his powers. None of them did – and the thought that someone else could inadvertently call on them was a sobering one indeed.

Not having any answer, he turned away from her, trying to save as much face as he could while at the same time looking at no one.

"So, Suzie…" Ben began, trying to find some way to ease the tension while at the same time dispelling her image from his own mind. "What mail did you get?"

She picked up a piece of paper, sighing feelingly as she read the tabulations. "Eleven magazine offers; most notably a special spread in Playboy – and _forget it_!" She said sharply, looking up at Ben.

"I didn't say anything."

"Just so you don't." She consulted the sheet again. "Sixty two marriage offers; they obviously weren't on the boat. A hundred fourteen letters asking about everything from 'how my costume disappears with me' to 'can I make it vanish on its own'. Sixteen letters about the force field and what I can do with it - with them. Two hundred seventeen letters I _shredded_ halfway through! _One_ letter inquiring about my scientific skills that led me to being on the space station in the first place."

Ben considered himself very wise in that he said absolutely nothing. He turned, instead, to Richards. "What about you, Stretch?"

"An interesting assortment. I've been asked to speak at three Universities, eleven Colleges and seventeen Talk Shows; the fees alone should get this place out of debt. 'Scientific American' wants to do a story on me, and there are inquiries from more scientists than I've _met_ before today. The A.M.A. is interested in a paper, and wants to know if my stretching abilities can be finely tuned enough for limited-access surgery. Also, we received compliments and 'welcomes' from the Avengers, the X-Men, Spider-Man (no return address) and a Dr. Steven Strange."

He did not mention, in consideration of his fiancé's feelings, the numerous women who wrote in response to the rather unfortunate speculation of a certain female reporter who, in an impromptu interview with Johnny, had questioned his ability to expand _any_ part of his anatomy.

Ben would have commented that each of them had received mail geared to their 'type', but he doubted even he would have survived Susan's response. However, a quick mental count gave him another thing to say. "That doesn't seem to cover two huge sacks of mail."

"It doesn't." Reed admitted. "That was just ours." He stretched his arm out, and further, all the way across the room until he pointed down at an overstuffed sack clearly fuller than either of the earlier two had been alone. "That's yours."

"Come on." He stared at the thickly stuffed sack. "You're joking." The sack was surely stuffed with pillows, with a few envelopes jammed into the top. It would be just the sort of joke that would amuse Johnny.

He walked over to it, but the closer he got, the less like pillows it looked. He stared down at the pack at his feet. As deeply as he could see, it was letters; or at least envelopes. "Come on, this is ridiculous. Who'd write to _me_? This is your phone bill, your electric, your cable –."

"Ben?" He turned at Reed's voice, catching his friend's expression. "This is _me_ talking to you." He stared at his friend, having no answer.

Turning back to the sack, he pulled out one of the letters. It was handwritten, the penmanship very careful, but clearly such as a child might write. It was addressed 'Mr. Ben Grimm, Baxter Building' etc. The return address was also handwritten, from an address in Yonkers. He turned it over, and tried to open it. But his four massive, rocklike fingers could not handle the envelope, could not find the right spot to open the delicate paper without tearing it completely in half. He tried again, and again. Finally he dropped the envelope back into the pile.

"Ben?"

"Ahh, what do I want to read mail for? The way the rest sounds, who wants marriage proposals when I've got Alicia? I'm not going to disappear or go on the Lecture circuit, and my days of piloting are over now that I'm heavier than the rocket. I'll be in my room."

He turned, lumbering away, not caring to soften his footfalls. He'd really wanted to open that letter, but being unable to do so had left his heart heavier than his body, and not for anything in the world would he admit it.

xxx

Ben Grimm lay on his bed, watching a late night movie, unable to sleep. The others had all turned in hours before. It was well past midnight, so it was quite surprising to him when he heard a soft, tentative knocking at his door. "Ben?" He was even more surprised that the soft voice that filtered through the door was Susan's. "Ben, I know you're awake. Can I talk to you?"

He got up, curiosity warring with surprise and winning. He opened the door just far enough to see her face. "Suzie?" He looked back at the clock on his bureau. "It's two thirty."

"I know. I also knew you were awake." She said softly. His expression asked his question. "I heard the television from my room next door, and as long as I've known you, you couldn't sleep if a bird was chirruping outside your window."

"Yeah, well - ."

"Can I talk to you?" It was just the sort of question, coming at two thirty in the morning, from a friend like Susan Storm, which he could not bring himself to refuse. But when he opened the door all the way and she stepped in, he was even more deeply surprised to see her holding a sheaf of papers to her chest. A large sheaf. A _very_ large sheaf.

"What's this?" She looked down to where he pointed; then just raised her eyes to look at him.

"Your mail." She admitted sheepishly. "Or much of it. I couldn't carry it all."

"You opened it?" He asked unnecessarily. Actually, he was rather grateful, and touched. But; "You read them?"

"Some." She admitted, trying to hide any sense of guilt. "I think you should."

He shook his head. "Suzie."

She pushed the papers into his hands. "I think you should _read_ them." She insisted. "Then, if you want to talk, let's talk."

She left him alone faster, it seemed, than she could even disappear; closing the door quietly behind her, leaving him with an armload of papers and no way to protest.


	3. Alma Mater

Chapter Three

Alma Mater

Reed Richards entered the kitchen to find Johnny Storm seated at the table, frying eggs in a skillet he held in the palm of his hand. "Show-off."

"Saves time." Storm replied with a grin, scraping the eggs from the skillet onto his plate with a spatula. But then he looked about; there was no place on the cloth covered table for the hot metal.

"How much?" Reed asked with a barely restrained grin.

"Not a lot." Johnny admitted, getting up and putting the skillet on the stove. He made it back to his chair an instant before his sister arrived, tightening the belt of her white robe. She sat down in her seat between Reed and Johnny, her brother on her left. "How you doin', sis?"

"Good, and you?"

"Fine. You know, sis, I've been thinking."

"Oh, oh. Now I know we're in trouble." She quipped. Reed tried his best to keep a straight face, and actually managed it for a moment.

"No, I mean it. I was thinking about that 'Playboy' spread. Is there any way you can wear your uniform and _selectively_ -." She pointed a finger at his head, and by the striations of air between them Reed could see the patterns of 'invisible' force line from her fingertip to encircle and encapsulate Johnny's head from hair, down each side and under his chin to clamp his mouth in place. "_This isn't funny_." He protested, only able to move his lips before clenched teeth.

"Really? I'm having a ball. I wish I could have done this ten years ago." He tried to pull away, but she held him firmly locked in place.

"All right. No more 'Playboy'!" He capitulated. She lowered her hand, letting him go. He opened his mouth a few times, testing his jaw. "There's always…"

She raised her finger to him again. "Don't even think about it."

Her tone was deadly, and he knew he risked crossing a very dangerous line and it was time to back off. Besides, his favorite target chose this moment to lumber into the room, wearing an 'ultra-large' black robe and sat down in his chair to Johnny's left. Johnny prepared a particularly devastating barb, and the look on Ben Grimm's face made him bury it unhurled. "Ben?"

Reed and Susan looked at their unresponsive friend, whose expression was more haunted than any of them had ever seen, either before or since the cosmic accident.

"Ben?" Reed asked. "You okay? You don't look like you've slept all night."

"Haven't." Grimm answered distantly, but then when he focused; it was on Susan across from him. "Been reading."

"All night?" It had been over four hours since she'd given him -.

"I went and got the others you opened." He answered her unasked question. His eyes were alert, but as haunted as his expression. "Those kids…" He looked at Susan, knowing she would understand. "Those kids…"

"Yes, Ben." She answered softly, confirming what he'd already known, that she had read more than 'a few'.

"Would someone tell us what's going on?" Johnny asked, growing concerned. Susan shook her head. If there was an explanation to give, Ben would have to be the one to give it.

Ben Grimm, known to the world as the 'Thing', looked at his three friends in turn, and his eyes never lost their haunted expression. "Those letters weren't from rocket scientists, or glamour magazines, or groping groupies… they were from kids. All over the city, all over the state, all over… They're from lonely kids; lost ones; 'ugly' ones tormented by school bullies; kids who don't fit in; kids who are failing in school; kids who are doing too well and are alienated from others by it; kids who no one will play with because they're fat, or silly looking, or don't look right, or whose skin is black or yellow or…"

His eyes regained their focus, and he could see his friends again. "They all … they see themselves … in an orange rock that people _respect_. They think … if the '_Thing'_ can be one of the 'Fantastic Four', maybe there's hope for _them_. They think, if _I_ can … then they …" Ben looked imploringly at his best friend. "What can I say to these people? What … answer can I give?"

"The truth." Reed said softly.

"What truth? What can I say? I can't write to them, I'm no _writer_!"

"Why would you need to be? Just say your words in your own way."

"You know, if this keeps up, we're going to have to hire a full time Secretary." Susan pointed out.

"Ooh, can I do the interviews?" Johnny asked enthusiastically, knowing there was no way the others would agree.

Ben reached into the pocket of his robe and handed a letter to Reed. This one was typed, with printed return address and clearly one not written by a child. Reed took it, removed it from its envelope, and opened it. "Mister Benjamin Grimm, Class of 1972…" He read the rest in silence, a silence that filled the room. It was not a long letter, but when Reed met his friend's eyes, there was a wealth of understanding between them.

"Come on, Reed. Don't keep us in the dark." Johnny protested.

"It's from Ben's old Elementary School, inviting him to address the school at an Assembly, date and time to be arranged. Apparently, the Thing is such an 'inspiration' to the students that …"

"… that they want to hear how I do it; how a 'rock' man can gain the respect of the city when a lot of these kids can't even get the respect of their playmates or families. Reed, what could I _possibly_ say to them?"

"Like we said earlier; the truth." Johnny said, surprisingly more serious than any remembered ever hearing him.

"What truth? I can't go out there and tell them everything's okay, because it's not; and they'll see through me in an instant. They know everything's not okay, and nothing that I can say can change that. But what can I do? I can't accept this invitation!"

Susan picked up the paper and stood up, stepping over to the wall mounted telephone. She dialed the number printed on the letterhead while the three men sat staring at her, stunned. "Hello, Dr. Jackson's office? Yes, this is Susan Storm of the Fantastic Four, replying to his letter of the fifteenth. Yes, I'll hold."

"Suzie, what the _hell_ are you doing?" She held up her hand to hush Ben.

"Yes, Doctor. This is Susan Storm… I prefer Invisible _Woman_, thank you... No problem. I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Grimm would love to speak to your students… I'm sure we can work out a time... Today's Assembly? Two thirty?" She looked at Ben, whose expression had gone from horrified to frantic as he waved her to silence, desperately urging her to Shut Up! "Yes, Doctor. He'll be there... Thank _you_, Doctor." She hung up the phone.

"Suzie…" Ben said when he recovered his voice. "I can't _believe_ you _did_ that."

"I can." Johnny said. "She calls _me_ impulsive, but when you come right down to it she's the Queen of Impulse."

"Suzie, I just told you I'm not a public speaker. How _could_ you?"

"Ben, they don't want a Public Speaker. If they did, they'd invite the President and he'd have his staff write something meaningful and inspiring for him to say, based on demographics and opinion charts. They want _you_."

"But I'm not 'meaningful' or 'inspiring'. I'd settle for not insipid. And for this afternoon? How could you _do_ that to me?"

Susan Storm came back to the table and did something she never thought she'd ever do for anyone. She went down on one knee before her friend. "Ben, they want you to talk to them, from the heart. If you want, I'll write something for you, but _believe_ me, you'll get through this. Just be yourself, and remember all those letters."

Looking into her eyes, he knew this was not 'impulse' nor caprice. She knew what he needed even better than he did. But how could he possibly…

"I don't know, Suzie." She took his massive hands between hers, her own seeming so very tiny in comparison.

"Ben, trust me. Just think of the kids."

xxx

There had to be five or six hundred children packed in the auditorium in the basement. Ben Grimm knew every inch of this building; remarkably it had not changed appreciatively in over 32 years. But the auditorium, seen from the wings of the 'stage', seemed both smaller and bigger than he'd remembered it.

The faces, in three decades, were all different, but he could blink his eyes and see the men and women who'd walked these halls and tried to guide him, for better or worse, from age five to thirteen. Now he was back, standing in the wings with his three friends, looking at a man who stood where Dr. Simon Gelsen would have so long ago. Now a new Principal, Hugo Jackson, addressed a new 'class' of young people.

"Our guest this afternoon comes to us at _your_ request." He told them, leading into his introduction. "Over forty years ago, in 1964, he came to us as a student here. Since then, he spent many years in the Air Force and as an Astronaut with NASA. He has been on the news recently in his new role as a member of the superhero team known as the 'Fantastic Four'. Known as the 'Thing', he is Major Benjamin Grimm, United States Air Force; Class of 1972."

Principal Jackson extended his hand, and Ben was unable to take a step. That is, until Reed Richards, standing behind him, gave him a hard push. So massive was he, however, that the force moved him only a quarter inch, but got him to walk out. As he came into view a series of polite applause started, but this faded quickly as the assembled students got a truly good look at him. Ben paused in the silence, looking out at the sea of astonished faces, the entire student body held motionless before him, staring.

Ben looked back at Susan, the hurt in his eyes deeper than she had ever seen in her life, and her own heart fell in sympathy for her friend.

Then, as it became clear that this was, indeed, really the Thing, and not an actor in a mock up suit, the explosive applause and cheers nearly knocked him back, a force in itself. They were on their feet, cheering and screaming with an enthusiasm no adult could duplicate. This time he could not move from the spot he stood riveted upon, but it was not from fear. It was a deep astonishment, awe at the wild, undiminishing response of these hundreds of children going mildly berserk that held him.

Gradually he became aware of Dr. Jackson at his side, and as the man escorted him to the lectern in the middle of the stage, the cheers and applause eventually died down – over several more minutes.

He held the papers Susan had given him, and now carefully spread them on the lighted lectern. They were written in large lettering, hardly more than thirty words to each page, so he could refer to them without looking like he was reading.

"Good afternoon." He said, his amplified voice booming through the room. He lowered his voice a bit, trying to get the feel of the speaker, the lectern, the stage… "I'm Ben Grimm, and I'd like to thank you for inviting me to speak to you today." He went on to the next page as applause and cheers thundered through the room.

"Ever since my friends and I went through a radioactive cloud in space, we have been changed, as you know. One of us can stretch his body beyond anything we've imagined, another can manipulate fire, another can disappear, and I, as you see, have gained enormous strength, but each of us paid a price for our powers. With me, the price is obvious."

Next page. "But I am not here to talk to you about prices, or strength, invisibility, fire, or anything else like that. I'm here to talk to you about pride in _yourself_, in tapping what's inside you. When I changed outside, I realized there were some things I have inside." Next page. "And what is inside me is not unique – it's what is inside you. It's your strength. Your courage. Your honor. Your belief in the worth of yourself that you want to tap."

Next page. "I -." He paused.

It said '_Tell them from your heart. You can do it. I love you. Susan._'. There was a heart and a pair of lips drawn on the paper as well. He turned to her in disbelief, lost, but she urged him silently, coaxing him. He turned back to the hundreds of waiting children.

"The world…" He improvised, praying for inspiration. "The world may see a monster when they look at my body, but you don't. You didn't when I came out. You've asked how I can fit in when you can't, but there is nothing different between us. I got thrown a screwball, and look like a rock, but I'm the same as you." He looked out at them, and suddenly he did not see a crowd of children. He saw one child seated next to another, and then another, all different, all unique; and all watching and listening intently to him.

"I come from _here_. I lived on Yancy Street, a quick three block run from here, and believe me I ran it from the bullies a lot of times. I was taught in each of _these_ rooms. I got my knuckles cracked when I was bad. I got detention when the knuckle-cracking didn't work. I got a paddling when I got home, on a butt I _wish_ had been hard as a rock then, but it wasn't…"

In the laughter that followed, Reed Richards, Susan and Johnny Storm watched their friend. He had them, not by being a 'superhero', not by being a 'freak', but by being Ben Grimm.

And by having them know that he was just like them; so they could be just like him.


End file.
